This morning, Kellie gifted me with an hour-long massage at the spa residing in our hotel. Swanky and relaxing, the spa had all the accoutrement one expects when spending money just to have a backrub. Anyway, as I walked into the dimly lit room, Natasha (yes, that’s her real name) invited me to disrobe, climb under the covers that were draped neatly over the massage table and relax after she had given me a few private moments. Now, I have had a few of these things before so I sort of knew the drill. But this time, her exit was different than what I expected. As she was leaving, she pointed to a little, wicker basket that hung by the door. Woven into and hanging down from the rim of the basket were tattered, stringy braids; each ending with a sachet filled with pebbles, dried flowers and pixsy dust. (Ok, probably not pixsy dust but who knows; this is the epi-center of “spirituality,” so they say).
As Natasha pointed to the oddly hanging decoration, she said, “This is a burden basket. When you’re ready, place all your burdens, worries and cares in there and we’ll hang it outside the door. That way you can be totally relaxed.”
Have you ever tried to hold back a sneeze and afterward, you thought you ruptured something, somewhere that might be important someday? For me it wasn’t a sneeze, but a laugh. Is she serious? I thought. First of all, the burdens, worries and cares of a 2 year old wouldn’t fit in that thing. Secondly, just the thought of trying to put our families burdens of these last months into a three-dollar, Pier One overstock item, just made me laugh. What; then outside the door, the basket magically transforms my cares and hurts into happy thoughts?! I don’t think so.
I’d rather give them to someone who knows what it means to suffer. I’d rather place them in the nail-pounded hands of the one who gave everything for me. I’d rather let Him give me the Peace that goes beyond my imagination than let a mass-manufactured pixsy dust holder pretend to give me hope.
I walked out of the room — post-massage, of course — relaxed and refreshed, thanking the Lord for being ready to receive my stress. I guess I didn’t need a massage for that; but it sure was nice.
“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:7
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